THE WESTMORELAND GIRL
TO MY GRANDCHILDREN
THE WESTMORELAND GIRL
PART I SEEK who will delight in fable I shall tell you truth. A Lamb Leapt from this steep bank to follow ‘Cross the brook its thoughtless dam. Far and wide on hill and valley Rain had fallen, unceasing rain, And the bleating mother’s Young-one Struggled with the flood in vain: But, as chanced, a Cottage-maiden (Ten years scarcely had she told) 10 Seeing, plunged into the torrent, Clasped the Lamb and kept her hold. Whirled adown the rocky channel, Sinking, rising, on they go, Peace and rest, as seems, before them Only in the lake below. Oh! it was a frightful current Whose fierce wrath the Girl had braved; Clap your hands with joy my Hearers, Shout in triumph, both are saved; 20 Saved by courage that with danger Grew, by strength the gift of love, And belike a guardian angel Came with succour from above. PART II NOW, to a maturer Audience, Let me speak of this brave Child Left among her native mountains With wild Nature to run wild. So, unwatched by love maternal, Mother’s care no more her guide, 30 Fared this little bright-eyed Orphan Even while at her father’s side. Spare your blame,–remembrance makes him Loth to rule by strict command; Still upon his cheek are living Touches of her infant hand, Dear caresses given in pity, Sympathy that soothed his grief, As the dying mother witnessed To her thankful mind’s relief. 40 Time passed on; the Child was happy, Like a Spirit of air she moved, Wayward, yet by all who knew her For her tender heart beloved. Scarcely less than sacred passions, Bred in house, in grove, and field, Link her with the inferior creatures, Urge her powers their rights to shield. Anglers, bent on reckless pastime, Learn how she can feel alike 50 Both for tiny harmless minnow And the fierce and sharp-toothed pike. Merciful protectress, kindling Into anger or disdain; Many a captive hath she rescued, Others saved from lingering pain. Listen yet awhile;–with patience Hear the homely truths I tell, She in Grasmere’s old church-steeple Tolled this day the passing-bell. 60 Yes, the wild Girl of the mountains To their echoes gave the sound, Notice punctual as the minute, Warning solemn and profound. She, fulfilling her sire’s office, Rang alone the far-heard knell, Tribute, by her hand, in sorrow, Paid to One who loved her well. When his spirit was departed On that service she went forth; 70 Nor will fail the like to render When his corse is laid in earth. What then wants the Child to temper, In her breast, unruly fire, To control the froward impulse And restrain the vague desire? Easily a pious training And a stedfast outward power Would supplant the weeds and cherish, In their stead, each opening flower. 80 Thus the fearless Lamb-deliv’rer, Woman-grown, meek-hearted, sage, May become a blest example For her sex, of every age. Watchful as a wheeling eagle, Constant as a soaring lark, Should the country need a heroine, She might prove our Maid of Arc. Leave that thought; and here be uttered Prayer that Grace divine may raise 90 Her humane courageous spirit Up to heaven, thro’ peaceful ways. June 6, 1845.